


stablehand

by feyrith



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Developing Friendships, Developing Relationship, Equestrian, Horses, M/M, Male Friendship, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Public Sex, Showjumping AU, Smut, Workplace Relationship, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-10-31 17:14:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10903851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feyrith/pseuds/feyrith
Summary: Søren Thorsen is a stablehand for Nils Haugen, a Norwegian show jumper. Turns out Nils is up for riding more than just his horse.





	stablehand

**Author's Note:**

> an idea that's been stuck in my head for a while, merged with my urge to write some pwp. i might try spin this into a proper series if anyone is interested, so please leave a comment if you'd like to see more of this au!  
> this fic is unedited, so i'm sorry for any mistakes.

Søren Thorsen can’t really remember much of his time working at the stables before Nils arrived. He was only a stablehand, though that wasn’t to say his job was lowly. No, he was paid incredibly well, and that was only a bonus to getting to work around one of the animals he adored the most in the world. Horses. His job hardly even felt like a job. Coming in each day was something he looked forwards to greatly. He was always eager to return the next day after saying goodnight to each of the horses in his care. But since Nils had started boarding and riding his horse at the centre… Søren loved his job that little bit more.

Nils Haugen was a Norwegian showjumper. And a good one, at that. He had only missed out on qualifying for the Olympics last year because his horse had thrown a shoe and became lame. When he had first arrived at the stables, a different stablehand had been assigned to him and his horse. That stablehand hadn’t lasted long. Søren had been informed that Nils just wasn’t impressed with the way he handled his work, when he was assigned to him in the second week of the Norwegian’s boarding.

“It’s not that I want him to do my work for me,” Nils said. “I’m more than capable of taking care of my own horse. But a stablehands job is to aid me in that, right? And he more of a hindrance.”

Søren nodded in agreement. He appreciated an owner who took pride in looking after their horse as well, and it was clear Nils was one of those people. In fact, he was rather elated that he now got to work with the showjumper. At first, it had just been because he was incredibly handsome, and those rare smiles made his chest feel strangely warm. But the more he watched him, the more he wanted to really get to know him. He carried himself with dignity, and was never one to shuck his responsibilities in taking care of his horse. He just hadn’t thought he’d get to know him this intimately, this quickly.

Nils’ mare, Coffee (a fitting name, Søren thought, with how much he knew the Norwegian appreciated coffee as a drink), was turned out in one of the numerous paddocks surrounding the main stable block. The both of them were now working on cleaning out her stall, wheelbarrow between them as they both sifted through the shavings, clearing out any waste.

“I’ve seen the way you’ve been looking at me,” Nils said, voice nonchalant, like his words were a typical conversation starter. He dumped another load of damp shavings into the wheelbarrow, and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. Søren noted the lack of the barrette the other usually used to do that job for him, before sky blue eyes focused back on that unfairly handsome face. He wasn’t really sure what to say. He couldn’t deny it, because it was true. It was embarrassing Nils had picked up on it, though, because he thought he had been fairly subtle about his ogling.

“Uh,” he said eloquently. “Yeah… I’m sorry about that.” He wasn’t.

“You’re not,” Nils said. Søren thought he was a very perceptive man. “In fact, I’m kind of flattered. You’re good looking. Good at socializing. I’m sure you could have nearly anyone, if you tried. Yet, you seem to be interested in me.” He leaned against his rake, watching as the Dane pulled in one of the bags of fresh shavings to replace what had been taken out. His expression was pensive. “Do you want to have sex with me?” was what he said next.

Søren spluttered, accidentally tipping the shavings out into his boots. His cheeks went a soft pink, highlighting the dusting of freckles across his nose. Nils’ snort of amusement was worth the uncomfortable feeling of the shaving digging into the thread of his socks, though.

“Well, I-” he said, trying to regain enough composure to form a proper sentence. He glanced over at the other man, who was still leaning against his rake, one neatly shaped eyebrow quirked as he patiently awaited a response. “Yes,” Søren answered eventually. “You already know I do.”

Nils hummed in agreement, and carefully dug his rake into the fresh shaving, pulling them away from Søren’s feet to cover the floor of the stall in an even, thick layer of them. “Now?” was what he asked next.

“Now?” Søren repeated. “Here, in the stables? While there’s people around?” He peered his head out the open half of the stall door; he could see nobody else around, nor here anyone else. He was starting to get the feeling that Nils had planned this. “Do you even have like, condoms on you? Lube?”

The rake was leaned up against one wall, and from his pockets, Nils pulled a little foil package and a small tube. “Got both,” he assured. “So. Are we going to have sex?”

And that’s how Søren Thorsen found himself half naked and fully sheathed within the Norwegian showjumper Nils Haugen. With the confirmation that they had the two items required, Søren had more than eagerly set his own rake aside, and closed the top half of the stall door, in the hopes of giving them a little more privacy in such a public space. The next thing to be done was the undoing of belts and the pushing down of jodhpurs, polo shirts rucked up their chests as Søren took the condom from the Norwegian, ripping it open with ease and rolling the pre-lubricated latex over himself, after a few strokes of one callused hand to bring himself to full hardness. By the time he looked up again, Nils already had two slicked fingers within himself, legs spread as wide as they could be with the constriction of his jodhpurs around his knees, his free hand bracing himself against the wall. Søren could only moan quietly at the back of his throat and watch as those long, slender fingers pumped in and out of a rather admirable rear, scissoring and curling occasionally, making their owner moan softly too.

“Well?” Nils asked after a while, shaking Søren from his trance. “Are you going to stand there with your dick out, looking like an idiot, or are you going to fuck me?”

There was an awkward shuffle forwards, the remainder of the lube being passed to Søren, who smeared it over his wrapped cock before he wiped his hand off on his shirt.

“Ready?” he asked Nils, who merely pulled his fingers from himself and nodded in confirmation. Carefully, Søren used one hand to guide himself into Nils’ quickly prepped hole, pressing into him slowly, pausing with each inch to give him a moment to adjust. When their hips finally met, both of them let out a low groan of pleasure.

“We have to be quiet,” Nils hissed, glancing over his shoulder at the Dane, who had automatically started holding his breath at those words to keep himself quiet. Nils rolled storm blue eyes, bracing himself with both hands against the wall now. “You can move. Just don’t go too wild. That can be saved for later, when you take me home.” He flashed one of those rare smiles, before letting his head drop between his shoulders, eyes closing as Søren pulled back several inches before rocking back in slowly.

They soon settled into a steady pace, soft sounds of skin against skin and sighs of pleasure intermingling between them. 

Søren draped himself over the Norwegian’s back, mouthing at his pretty, pale throat, leaving faint marks that would fade in a handful of minutes. He slipped one hand underneath their bodies, long fingers curling around Nils’ erection to stroke him time with his thrusts, twisting slightly on the upstroking and thumbing over the soft mushroom head; he took great pride in the fact that the other man had to shift one hand from the wall to cover his mouth to better muffle his sounds of pleasure.

Outside their little box of privacy, Søren could hear the sound of muffled voices, the ever familiar clop of horseshoes against the paved floor as a horse was brought in from the paddocks.

“Anyone seen Nils?” one of the instructors called. “I gotta sort out his next lesson.”

“Fuck,” Søren heard Nils breathe, muffled behind the palm of his own hand. “Fuck, I’ll catch up with him later. Don’t you dare stop moving. I’m getting close.”

Søren didn’t dare disobey the other man. In all honesty, he wasn’t sure he could stop, even if he wanted to (which he most certainly didn’t). He increased their pace ever so slightly, shifted the angle of his hips half an inch. Nils bit into the softer part of his hand, a strained cry pulled from his lips. Søren smirked, and kept that angle, shifting his free hand to cover the one already over Nils’ mouth to muffle his sound even further. There was more occasional chatter from outside the stable walls, but it never got close enough to be too discernable, so Søren couldn’t find it in himself to be too worried. It really was hard to focus on much else when he was balls deep in the man he had been crushing on for the last few weeks.

He was caught rather off guard when Nils’ hand grabbed at his one, blunt nails digging into his fingers before he felt a wet warmth spill over the one that was still stroking over the Norwegian’s cock. The already tight channel around his own erection became even more constricting, and Søren bit his lip so hard in his attempt to keep quiet that he broke the thin skin, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth as he spilled himself into the condom. The both of them panted heavily, working to regain their breath as they came down from the highs of their orgasms.

Eventually, Søren pulled back, slipping from Nils with a soft sound. Once again, he was assured that always carrying around a travel packet of tissues was a good idea (usually used because he sometimes got a runny nose around the horses), as he dug them out from his jodhpurs pocket and pulled out a couple to wipe his dirtied hand clean. Once that was done, he carefully removed the condom and tied it off, throwing it and the dirted tissues in the wheelbarrow for now so he can discard of them discreetly in one of the bins on his way out to the manure pile. He licked over his split lip as he pulled his pants back up, tucking himself away and fastening his belt again, before he turned his attention to Nils to help make him look presentable again. Blue eyes widened in surprise when he was met with a soft kiss, but he quickly melted into it, his arms snaking around the other to pull him closer.

When they parted, he was gifted with another of his rare smiles. “Hand me your phone,” Nils said, and Søren was quick to comply, pulling it from his other pocket and passing it over after unlocking it. He watched with a rather dopey smile as Nils filled out his contact details, saving it before handing it back over. Søren looked it all over, noting the other had even put in his address.

“Tomorrow night.” Nils’ words pulled him back to the moment. “Come around for dinner. 6pm. Don’t be late. Don’t be smelling like horse. I love them, but I like my house to smell clean and fresh.” He pressed another soft kiss to Søren’s lip before he stepped back, brushing his hair out of his eyes again. “Now go clean out that wheelbarrow and do whatever else you have to do. I have a lesson to go sort out. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Søren said, dazed, as he put his phone away and picked up the rakes, settling them into the wheelbarrow. “See you tomorrow, Nils.” He could hardly believe his luck, and he had to stop several times to pinch himself to make sure it was all real. Sex with Nils Haugen, in the stables. A dinner date with him tomorrow. He didn’t even mind the knowing looks of an old time frenemy, Swedish dressage rider, Berthold Söderberg.

Once the wheelbarrow was emptied and the soiled items were discarded off in the bin, he went about the last of his duties, making sure each horse had been feed, rugged, and said goodnight too. He said goodbye to his co-workers and made his way home. All he could think about for the rest of the evening, as he showered, ate dinner, climbed into bed, was the fact that his already incredible job had just gotten a little bit better, thanks to a Norwegian showjumper.


End file.
